"Lift your voice. And sing."

A couple months ago I posted a video of Khamal Iwuanyanwu who scored perfect 10s on his Classic Slam performance with original poem, Sepia. Recently several new videos from the Get Lit Classic Slam have been uploaded, thanks to Button Poetry and I wanted to share a few more with you, today. As always, I stand behind these teens in awe and gratitude. The future is mighty with truth.

ED: The way The Classic Slam works is this: Teenage poets first recite a famous work by a known poet. And then they respond with their own personal work.

"...Our fathers who married white women who got hassled by the police, chased down the streets, thrown up against cars just for being out with them... do not let your melanin be your melancholy... We are black diamonds. The more pressure you put on us the stronger we become. Lift your voice and sing. Let the sound ring out so they can hear you. Over the cries of their own deafening hate. Even though the melodies can get muddled... Even though our flutes are failing and our trumpets are trembling and our organs are out of tune. Lift your voice and sing."

"My parents hopped the border, chased the train, hid in crates, all to arrive in this country to shape it to what it is today. A future on their shoulder and hope in their veins. They went through so much torture, now it brings me pain to let city streets define me. I never gave the north star a chance to guide me. I listened to Martin's Dream and now I have one of my own to allow all people to come together and yes I know, Lord forbid a Mexican even stand beside your kid. Lord forbid harmony should ever even exist... " 

"My right to enter a conversation shatters with the shyness of Asberger's syndrome. I am terrified of people... And yet. I secretly appreciate a swingset all to myself. A conversation just for me. The wind blowing in my face from a mile away. I have resigned to the fact that I will essentially never be normal and started searching for an identity. After all, few people would have the willingness to stand up for their weaknesses. But me, I make them willpower. Happiness is obliged to trample over insecurity. Thus, a loud cry for help becomes a soft declaration: I am terrified of people. I am terrified... of you." 

"I heard most guys like their girls BBW. So thick everybody in the room is uncomfortable. But I am not a pig you can throw into a contest at a county fair... prizes included: my virginity, bragging rights to your homies, you deciding my self worth... I'm worth first place. DEAR GIRLS. You're worth FIRST PLACE... "

"This is my introduction to the truth. The kind that drips off the end of your tongue because it's been stored for 16 years and you never knew how to say it..."


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